More Than One World
by Magician Irono
Summary: More than one wall. Eremin
1. Part 1

Yaoi-loving trash? Yup, that's me! Top!Armin-loving trash? That's me, too! Writer who rips off other people's ideas? DingDingDing! 3 for 3!

Firstly, this fic was inspired by Kiyoshi Kitana's _Powder Keg_. This could be viewed more or less as the aftermath of such events. I haven't talked to Kiyoshi Kitana about this, so this fic is not necessarily canon to his/her own story. It's more or less fanfiction of her fanfiction (You'd think this was the Fifty Shades Trilogy fanfiction page. . .). You don't need to read _Powder Keg_ before you read this, but go check her's out, anyways- it's short, but hot and nosebleed-inducing all the same. :^'D

Sadly, I don't swing this way, and this is my first (complete) attempt writing yaoi. I'm not sure I have the proper experience to write this accurately. In addition, this chapter references textbooks that I have never read, but found summaries and quotes of. Let me know in the reviews if you can relate or if this is not accurate at all. Please enjoy all the same.

Part 1

Armin couldn't believe it at first. Being the object of that kind of attention? Surely there were better options than he. But that wasn't his concern at the moment.

The shock didn't hit him as hard as it should have. Armin was thankful for it- at least one of them should keep a level head in a situation such as this. He and Eren had taken the conversation out in the stables before it began. No one would pay any mind to them at such a aged hour. The smaller could see his breath, if just barely. Icy gusts blew past the door, rattling the hinges. Sometimes the entire roof rocked with the gale and moaned. Horses snorted, but didn't bother them. The air was as tense as it was cold, it seemed.

The brunette before Armin, sitting on an overturned bucket with his legs pressed together as tightly as possible, was and remains someone he couldn't imagine his life without. For as little as the blonde have given him, Eren had offered protection, time, friendship when few else found it profitable to give. Strife and triumph had colored those prior years thick and merciless. The smaller remembered staying up with Eren if he had been trapped in the throes of his nightmares, speaking softly when driven nearly mad by his own anger, doing his best to smile when their futility and mortality stood a bit too prominent in their lives. If Armin have given nothing else, it's been an open ear, honest advice and his promise of confidentiality.

 _So why couldn't he tell me he felt this way?_ Why did he have to catch the other not an hour ago with a hand on his cock, turned _his_ way, and with _his_ name spilling out as his release did? Not to mention on the third night they were sharing a bunk, Eren finally having been let out of the cellar.

"You know we don't have all night-"

"Yes, I know! Just let me think, wi-"

"You can't honestly not know why you did it."

"Well, I didn't! I-I mean I don't- _Fuck_. . ."

Admittedly Armin kept quiet, too, but for good reason. Death wasn't the only thing that can take Eren away from him (even if it failed the first time). The shorter wasn't lying necessarily- he just didn't think such information was imperative to share. To share such heavy words as to say he wanted more from Eren was a hasty and foolish move, no matter how innocent. _Mom, Dad, Grandpa- I've already lost so many people and I'll be damned if I lose another due to carelessness._

Or so he thought.

"Did you at least enjoy yourself?"

Eren was seated in the furthest corner of the stables, near the door. Armin stood, leaned against the wall, arms folded, looking down. The power dynamic was established the moment Eren was caught. The criminal and the interrogator, prey and predator. Armin was guilty, of course, for the attack on his best friend, but you break an animal before giving affection- that's just how you get cooperation the best. On the bucket Eren bounced his knee and wrung out the now soiled handkerchief Armin lent him (for obvious reasons) in his hands. He didn't look up to the other. Not a word slipped out from his lips.

"As the object of your fantasy, I think I have a right to know."

Silence.

Finally Eren nodded, face painted white with horror.

Armin sighed. "Look." He walked to Eren, knelt to his level, and put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not mad at you for doing it. But this is something you should be able to share with me. You know I'm not so fragile as to be unable to understand this much."

"Armin, I hardly understand it myself." Eren finally straightened up. His tone was weighted down by defeat. Teal eyes swam with confusion and vulnerability. "This isn't- I'm not supposed to be focused on this. I'm a soldier, I have a job to do. And I don't know if it was just hormones or you or if you just, I dunno, looked like a girl from the back or if I'm going to start looking at the other guys differently- ah, shit." His head went in his hands. "I mean, Christ, those are our _friends_. And you are- Y-you were. . ."

Armin was smart enough to fill in the blank. _You were my best friend and I don't know if it's going to stay that way. I'm lost and I'm scared._ He smoothed his hand over the other's shoulder and rubbed his back. "It's ok. Just take a deep breath. Take your time and figure it out."

"Armin, the titans-"

"They're not going anywhere and we don't have another expedition for a couple of weeks. You can think and search all you like until then. I can guarantee that you'll regret dying without knowing."

Eren didn't speak. He inhaled, exhaled, slow and audible. Some of the mounts leaned in and sniffed the air. Another gust blew through the stable. Armin finally took the other in his arms. Apprehensively the embrace was returned. The two had always been close. From a tap on the shoulder to holding a hand, the intimacy and innocence of touch was never questioned. It all meant the same thing: _You are my best friend and I care for you._ Another weight was thrust upon this contact now. Something perverted; something sinful, perhaps dangerous. _I want more_ was the message that festered in the silence _._ And once that line was crossed. . .

Well, there are many violated, betrayed and heartbroken who could tell you how that ended.

Eren curled his fingers into the fabric on Armin's back. He sniffled once. "I'm sorry. Just. . . Are we still friends?"

Armin bit his lip. _Well, maybe. Maybe not._ They could be inseparable or separated for good, more than they ever imagined or absolutely nothing. But that wasn't the thing to say. Both he and Eren needed more time. Him to find the answer to his preference and Armin to prepare in his own way. The blonde actually had no doubt about his sexuality. From all the stories he had read as a child, of princesses and knights and dragons, he had played with the ideas of princes with knights or princesses with mighty, warrior queens. From there, he decided that men and women had their merits and that he could appreciate both in the safe confines of his mind: Armin identified himself as bisexual and definitely felt something for Eren. But this wasn't a fairy tale. To break the news about reciprocated affection at this time was not wise and that alone does not deem one ready to take things further. Not to mention that Armin had found a way to give back for all the protection and kindness the other had given him. A second chance wasn't guaranteed. _I need to learn what I can. How to deal with this, how to execute_ those _kinds of behaviors, and to make sure I don't mess this up._

 _This is the one I want to be with for the rest of my life, no matter how I get to have him._

The blonde settled for a simple answer, even if it was a buttered-up lie. ". . . Of course. You don't need to doubt that. C'mon." He patted Eren's back and broke away. "Let's get back to bed."

The walk back was quiet. Neither felt the need to speak, nor did they want to touch more on what was already spoken of. Back in the barracks, Armin feigned sleep until Eren snored lightly (which didn't take long). Sure, he watched some, but that was it. With nimble feet, the smaller rolled off the bed and tip-toed away (without giggling), slithering along the corridors. After feeling along the stone for so long, his eyes finally adjusted. He could make out the faintest outlines of turns, stairwells and walls. Armin crept about accordingly. His footsteps echoed faintly and played tricks. But he did not startle. There was no stopping until he found his way to the library in the western wing. The boy looked left. Then right. Not a soul stirred.

 _One today is worth two tomorrows,_ Armin reassured himself. And he slipped past the heavy doors without out the slightest whine from the hinges.

-AOT-

 _I do not mean to say that I viewed those desires of mine that deviated from accepted standards as normal and orthodox; nor do I mean that I labored under the mistaken impression that my friends possessed the same desires. Surprisingly enough, I was so engrossed in tales of romance that I devoted all my elegant dreams to thoughts of love between man and maid, and to marriage, exactly as though I were a young girl who knew nothing of the world. I tossed my love for Omi onto the rubbish heap of neglected riddles, never once searching deeply for its meaning. Now when I write the word love, when I write affection, my meaning is totally different from my understanding of the words at that time. I never even dreamed that such desires as I had felt toward Omi might have a significant connection with the realities of my "life"._

With one book tucked under his arm, Armin briskly walked down the hall with a second in his left hand, fingering a corner of the paper with the right. Peripherals were enough to keep him from running into anybody (he had gotten quite good at reading and walking at the same time). These words weren't exactly nonfiction, but when one crafts a story, they craft an experience. Any esteemed and responsible author has a lesson to teach and is to bend and weave their words to do so. Even a made-up story about a boy, grown into a man, who had to force himself to love a woman (Sonoko) and failed only to fall back to his admiration for his friend (Omi), was important. It presented insights on a brand of misery that no one seemed to speak of, perhaps of _Eren's_ misery. And so Armin kept his nose buried in that book with little mind of the remaining chapters. He would read himself into a migraine, turn pages day and night if it meant he could learn something.

The talk in the stables had ended not even 48 hours ago. Noon had just dawned. Golden rays fell upon the stone floors. The windows had been thrown open to welcome the tepid warmth outside. Eren had become fickle in approaching his "friend" since the incident. The morning after that night, Armin didn't hear much from other, as Eren had woken and left the barracks before he could catch him. In the afternoon and evening, Eren at least made a handful of attempts to speak to Armin, but fear got the better of him. He promptly apologized and walked away again. At that point, Armin concluded that Eren was just nervous. _I had best leave him be. He'll come around when he's ready._ The next sunrise, however, Eren had at least waited for Armin to wake by sitting on the edge of the bed. He gave as normal of a "Good morning" as he could give. They made their separate ways to breakfast, training, and Armin was then on his way to the mess hall with the fruits of his late-night theft (it wasn't the first time he had entertained himself with stolen and illicit books). Sasha would have tried to eat his lunch if he were late.

A beige blur- a scout's coat- brimmed around the left leather corner. Armin side-stepped to the right, but a hand dusted his shoulder. He spun and stopped. The book slackened in his grip. He smiled. "Hi, Eren."

When called upon, the taller froze. He blinked. "U-um." He cleared his throat and adjusted his posture. "Hi. Mind if I walk with you?"

Armin inwardly smirked. _Nice recovery there._ "Yeah, it's fine. I was just headed for some lunch. What about you?"

"I just got back. Looks like you have a new book again, huh?"

"Oh, yeah." A soft crunch and the ruffle of parchment came from the re-opened spine. "The writing is a little old-fashioned, but it's really good and I can understand it all the same. The translation notes help."

"From what language?"

"Nothing I've ever heard of. It's got this flow to it, like. . . I dunno, flower petals down a river. Quite poetic. And the main character's pretty relatable for me. He wasn't born with a strong build and found it difficult to get along with other boys his age. And it sounds like a lot of _Character Vs Self_ conflict- that's kind of my favorite."

"Really." The brunette's posture, while still straight and regal as a soldier's should be, had a thin layer of ease smoothed over once they started talking. The rhythm and familiarity was returning, bit by bit. How grateful Armin was for it! Not to mention proud- Eren was handling the situation rather well. "No wonder you haven't put it down. Any pictures?"

"Eh, some. It's not like the geography book we used to look at, though."

" _Euugh_." Eren grimaced at the teal, humanoid sketch on the cover. "I hope they don't all look like _that_ guy."

The blonde chuckled. "I haven't been paying much attention to the pictures. You get _so_ much more out of the words."

"What's it called?"

Armin checked the inside of the first page. " _Confessions of a Mask._ "

"Never heard of it. What about that other one?"

It was the second book Armin had picked up, adorned in black and fiery yellow leather, that Eren referred to. Fortunately the title wasn't written on the cover. _The Great Mirror of Manly Love? That's not for you to get into just yet, I don't think. You're better off focusing on you first._ "Just something near the first one. I was in a rush when I got them so I didn't have a chance to look. I just pulled it off the shelf." And the blonde was telling the truth, even if it wasn't the entire truth.

Eren bent himself forward, trying to get a better look at the second text. ". . . Can I-"

"Nope!" Armin spun around and poked his tongue out.

The other frowned. "You didn't let me finish."

"I knew what you were going to ask, and the answer's still 'no.' You can only read one book at a time. And if you open it, then I'll want to read it and I'll get confused with the story lines." Armin knit his brows and stuck out his lips. The real reason- that was more or less his trump card, the piece that would stop him from asking questions that he didn't need to. Any decent strategist knows to keep their most effective weapons concealed, at least at the beginning. Faking innocence was an "ok" method, at least. It would be refreshing for Eren, considering all of the chaos that had been going on since they joined the corps, and wouldn't require deep thought. He could have latched onto it or taken it as a sign of suspicious activity. It was a gamble.

 _Is he taking the bait?_

At first it didn't seem so. Eren raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting between the yellow book and Armin's pouted poker face. But that lasted all of a few seconds. The suspicion disappeared with a soft exhale and a twitch at the corner of his mouth. "Alright, you win." Eren's hands went up, signaling defeat, and he nestled them in his pockets. "I won't ruin your fun."

"Thank you." He smiled, spun back around-

"I'm serious, Armin."

For a moment, there was fear. Defeat. Eren's tone had been tainted with something that was neither comfort nor content. A suspicion crept up that maybe, just maybe, all of Eren's progress had been uprooted, wiped out like it was nothing. Armin turned and startled. _When did he get so close?!_ The taller gazed down with the profound sadness, striking a chord akin to regret. Noontime light caught the moisture in his eyes and convied a lie that Eren may burst into tears at any moment. He parted his lips. To Armin, they suddenly seemed enticing. The taller did not speak. A hand came up and gently took the shape of Armin's cheek, even caught some golden strands of hair. And Armin would have been afraid or disturbed, had he the capacity to feel as such. They were not standing in a hallway but sealed off in a small bubble that was just them. It was a rare sight to see Eren so lost. But this loss was not to horror or fear or anger. It was a potent _saudade,_ a remorseful nostalgia,that moistened his eyes and took his words away _._ Once again he seemed to be taking the blame for something that he had never caused. And his next sentences only confirmed Armin's suspicion.

"This," he muttered, ". . . This has to be the first time I've seen you so happy in a long time. About anything, really."

Armin couldn't find it in himself to reply. He couldn't look away from the other's eyes. He had seen them before. The small boy had seen them before, when he was smaller. His grandfather had that look whenever Armin came home hurt, his mother and father when they said their final goodbyes and left to see the world. Being caught up in wanting to do his job properly, now that he was a member of the Survey Corps, and keeping up with the rest of the soldiers, it was easy for him to forget that there were people who were content to have him for company, not utility. To have him just for the sake of having him. If it only came down to two people, or even the one that stared back at him with sad green eyes, that fact alone was enough to render him speechless and his heart fluttering in a most strange and delightful way.

The taller was the first to come back to his senses. Appalled alarm peeled his eyes wide open and dropped his jaw. "Oh my God- I-I'm sorry-" He ripped his hand off and staggered back. "A-actually, I think Captain Levi wanted me to clean the public bath out." Blood flooded his cheeks and ears, and ignited a furious blush. "Shit, I must be late and, you know how big a job it is. Sorry, Armin. Gotta go- Bye!"

Boot soles scaped frantically across the stone floor. Jaeger was out of sight. Arlert stood alone in the hallway.

 _Did. . . Did he just. . . ?_ The remaining boy touched his face as if to hold the last of the warmth there. _And during all that, I just wanted to kiss him. Especially when he touched me._

Yes, Eren took the bait. The very _wrong_ bait. Not to mention that the smaller let himself get swept away with some wanton urge.

Or there couldn't have been anything right or wrong about it. The loss for words, the blushing, the sudden need to leave- that was rather strong evidence that Eren was getting closer to his answer. _But please don't run away from it. You'll only be miserable and lonely._

Unfortunately, Armin knew he couldn't force anything. Eren would have to wrestle it on his own, at least for the time being. So he went back to reading, continued on his way to the mess hall and patiently waited for the next time the other would seek his company.

-AOT-

 _He made his way to the pine grove at Tenjin about one_ li _distant from the castle. There was a large boulder completely hidden by ivy with a giant laurel tree behind it where he sat in wait for his for. Dusk deepened, and as soon as it grew too dark to distinguish faces. Suddenly, who should appear but Gonkuro, gasping for breath._

 _"Is it you, Jinnosuke?"_

 _"A coward is no friend of mine," he answered._

 _Moriwaki wept. "I won't make apologies here. I shall prove my love to you as we cross the river into the next world."_

 _"I don't need your help," Jinnosuke retorted._

 _In the midst of this argument, Hanzawa Ihei appeared with fifteen of roughest men._

 _The four of them drew at the same instant and wielded their swords in the chaotic frey, determined to die manfully in the-_

"Hey, what happened- Why are you crying?"

It was either the third or the fourth evening since the incident (most likely the fourth). Armin had lost track and didn't bother to count. The first book blurred the lines of day and night, of yesterday and today. How lonely, how harrowing, how surprisingly _painful_ to read! And yet he couldn't put it down, almost having forgotten the reason he picked up the book in the first place. _Confessions of a Mask_ didn't bring Armin to tears, but the depressing complexity of it all took almost every ounce of mental energy and attention he had, even when training or trying to fall asleep. For one, to read of how the protagonist (Konocho) viewed soldiers was flattering in a strange, depraved sort of way. For another, his feelings that fixated on death and sex gave a clear signal that Armin had opened a can of worms that he couldn't completely conceive. The latter was never explicitly mentioned in the writing. And for yet _another_ , for as extremely negative as Konocho viewed himself, the sense of alienation was all too familiar and relatable. The masochistic fantasies and raw emotional torture portrayed in the book even invaded Armin's dreams. They were unpleasant, just short of being classified as a nightmare, and had nothing to do with "bombs" or "World wars" or things he should have been afraid of.

But then came this collection of short stories, forty gems of unrequited love- love worth dying for. Armin hadn't even finished the third one and he would surely turn into a hopeless romance junkie at this rate.

He looked up over the edge of this second text he had taken before and blinked. "I was crying?"

"You didn't know? Armin, you've been out here for an hour!"

Armin wipes his eyes and, sure enough, they were wet. He looked around. The courtyard of the Scouts' headquarters had been left empty. Sunset was long gone. Stars came out, some taking cover behind stratocumulus clouds, all against a purple and navy backdrop of the sky. Of course Eren would have come back to get him. _Oh boy, he's got his angry eyes._

Now this boy wasn't just some obnoxious hothead. Eren Jaeger was never just "angry". His rage had a spectrum of its own, like paint colors on an artist's pallet or an instrument's octave. Words and actions splayed far and wide, from indignance if those closest to him had been persecuted, to a ravenous bloodthirst for fallen comrades, to the destructive titanic rampages that spoke louder than any amount of screaming ever could. His hate for the walls hardly scratched the surface. Even Mikasa and sweet little Armin had felt his wrath once or twice.

He gave his face one more smear on his sleeve and put on a smile for his newly arrived friend. "Sorry. I was reading this and it made me weapy. I'm fine, real- _Gggh_. . . !" Armin suddenly shivered and curled up in his spot, clutching the book to his chest. _It wasn't this cold before, was it?!_

The taller scowled. "Here."

A green blur rippled to Armin's left field of vision. The fabric slapped against itself. Heavy wool settled on his shoulders and the smaller was hefted up to his feet without warning.

"You've gotta look after yourself better, Armin." Eren wore his annoyance like an attentive mother. "One: you'll get sick and two: you'll get picked on again if the others see you crying over a book. Me and Mikasa aren't going to be around for forever, you know. And what made that book so good that it made you cry and sit out in the cold?"

"Sorry-"

"Goddammit, Armin, quit apologizing! That's its, were going inside before you catch som-"

" _Heh-kew!_ "

And all hell froze over, with Armin caught red-handed covering up a sneeze and Eren glowering with disbelief.

 _Hoh, boy. . ._

They had walked back into the barracks not a minute later. Or rather, the brunette walked back, "cargo" in tow over his shoulder, who didn't even try to fight it and instead opted to read a bit more. The grumbling raised a few head and questions, but they went ignored. All Armin offered was a soft "Maybe you should leave him alone for a bit". At least the former had gotten to finish the short story before the other threw him at the foot of the bottom bunk they shared.

The taller ripped his cloak, jacket, leather skirt and belts off in haste and proceeded to throw them into his compartment of the trunk at the foot of the bunk bed. "C'mon, under the covers."

Armin took the time to neatly fold the pieces of his uniform. He kept _The Great Mirror of Manly Love_ in his lap and the cloak over his shoulders after his own coat was removed. "Eren, I'm ok. It was just a sneeze-"

"You were outside for an hour. In the cold."

"I feel perfectly fine, honest. Better now that I'm indoors."

"Get under the covers anyways. We're not risking bronchitis or pneumonia, understand?"

"Alright." He held out the stack of tidy uniform pieces to sleep in his usual shirt and pants, just like the others in the barracks (who had complained to the pair to shut up and go the fuck to sleep before Levi came in asking about the racket). Eren took them and tossed them in the trunk. He crawled in, lying closest to the wall like usual and staring out the window. Armin climbed in after, sliding his book underneath the bunk with the other one. The night had cleared up significantly. A shiny, white orb in the sky cast moonbeams from high above. Eren fidgeted with the blanket in his hands. The blonde narrowed his eyes. _Is he still uncomfortable?_ And it suddenly occurred to him that he may have had trouble sleeping at night, being surrounded by the other guys, not to mention sharing the same bed as him.

Eren dropped his voice to a whisper while he continued to watch the night sky. "What made that story so sad, anyways?"

 _Interrogation time. Of course._ Armin shook his head. "Just this hate letter and two characters that finally made up. It said some mean things, all 'You insulted this fan I made' and 'This gift was mine, but you gave it to this guy' and stuff like that."

"That's some weird stuff to be upset about."

"I can't remember the exact words right off the top of my head, but it was kind of harsh."

"Oh."

Armin closed his eyes and tried to relax. It would be a late night again. He had a close call once or twice by now, as that night was not the first late night in his research. Not to mention a few fantasies had already invaded his imagination. _I can't tell him. Not yet._ He opened them again and found that he was being watched. Eren's eyes, highlighted with a lunar glow, stood stark against the darkness like a mysterious guardian. But it had always been like that. When a particular beating almost became too much to bear, he would always show up in the nick of time with his sister close behind. Armin didn't have the easiest time breathing either, especially when he was little, but even at the verdant age of seven, when they had first met during one of Dr. Jaeger's visits, Eren used some of his second hand know-how to help Armin in whatever way he could. _That was why he was so worried about me getting sick._ The mindset didn't die in the refugee camps either, but rather it grew stronger. Perhaps possessive and destructive. Territorial. _But it's not like I belong to him or he belongs to me. Not yet anyways._

He whispered again. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

"For just being you. I know-" He adjusted his position on the bunk, rolling on his back and folding his hands on his chest. "I know I haven't been all there, lately. I'm still getting used to. . . _this_. Still trying to figure it all out. I've just wanted you to just keep being my friend and, well, I didn't really need to ask you for that. You just. . ." Eren shrugged and looked to the other. "You gave me exactly what I needed. I really appreciate it."

 _. . . Have I really? No, that can't be it. I've just been reading a lot and I'm starting to get confused as to whether I want to give to. . . or take from you._ Armin blinked and turned to face him. "Don't sweat it. I haven't done much, really. Just take your time. It sounds like it's hitting you all at once, so it must be rough."

"Don't sell yourself short, buddy. You have _no clue_ how much this means to me."

 _But how much is it worth?_ With Armin's dirty little secret kept under the bed and Eren not even questioning his loyalty, surely there was room for abuse. _But I really don't want either one of us to end up like Konocho, either._ Here it was, another gamble. Eren went back to watching the moon. Armin monitored something else entirely. The smallest flick of the other's long eyelashes; a strand of brown hair as it slid down the rest; the rise and fall of his chest with each relaxed breath- it was somehow homely, familiar, and sensual in its own way, as natural the rhythm of day and night. A warning blared in the back of the blonde's head. _Conspirator! Pervert! That's your best friend there!_

 _But I don't want that anymore. I want to express my gratitude in a stronger way and to receive the same gift. I want to do so fearlessly, uninhibited by anything else. Words simply can't do that, it seems, not with how I feel this._

Eren huffs out a breath. "Can you do me a favor and not tell anyone about all this?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die."

"Kill some fuckin' titans 'til that time?"

"That's terrible and you know it."

"Only if we actually die."

". . . Go to sleep, Eren. You sound like you need it."

The brunette paused and sucked his teeth. "Yeah, you're right. G'night, Armin." With that he flipped over on his left side and curled up.

With the sight gone, Armin frowned and settled with listening to his breathing. It didn't take long for the smaller to become such a hopeless romantic. _Or something worse._ The self control that he had up until now was fading. Either that or that he was just shrugging it off like a weight he no longer wished to carry. He extended a hand, as slow as an insect, to touch Eren's shoulder, to feel the warmth like in the hallway the other day. A tendril of thrill tossed deep in his belly. His cheeks and ears flushed hot. Armin stopped, inches shy of his goal. _I'm being really selfish._ He could have turned, let the drifting form be. And that's what he did. Because that wasn't the time. _It may not come for a while. And I have to wait for that, but that doesn't mean my time goes wasted as long as I'm responsible._

Even breathing came from Eren's side of the bed, so Armin slipped out. _I'm so all over the place tonight. I have to step back for a second and focus._ He went to the trunk and quietly rummaged through for a matchbox.

White phosphorus hissed and a small fire spread its arms as it was born. The light was passed to a tall candle and Armin took a seat on the floor so as not to wake anyone else. Squinting, he found a red thread in the pages that he had not noticed before, but thought nothing of it and used it as a bookmark of sorts. The hours passed, soldiers dozed. All the while Armin continued to study, to plan his next move as the time ripened and approached.

 _Medicine that takes lives._

 _A woman's handwriting leads him to his lover._

 _Struck by an arrow at a river forded in secret._

-AOT-

So here are the disclaimers:

 _Attack on Titan_ belongs to Hajime Isayama;

 _Confessions of a Mask_ belongs to Yukio Mishima;

And _The Great Mirror of Manly Love_ belongs to Saikaku Ihara.

Check out the last two- I've heard nothing but good things about them. The former is quite raw and serious, while the latter is more innocent and makes fun of some of the tropes, such as "woman-hating". Again, I have never read either of these books. I'll also be referring to other books in the coming chapters, which will also appear here if you would like to find them.

And I may or may not have wanted to make a character bisexual. Thought it would be interesting- I don't read a lot about bisexual characters in these fanfictions. I know that we haven't gotten to the "Top!Armin" part of it just yet. Don't worry, you'll be seeing that in the next chapter if all goes as it should.

Also, shout out to my buddy, Roman! For having met him just a little bit ago, he has been kind enough to look over my writing and make sure that it was all good. Give him a cookie in the comments. Until then, see you next chapter. :)


	2. Part 2

Ok, part 2!

Firstly, I apologize for the wait. The lack of reviews was discouraging and college classes have started up, but the time has not gone wasted. This is the first fanfiction I have actually worked _backwards_ on. The epilogue is now completed and edited, as is most of part 5 and some of parts 3 and 4. The original plan was to have four parts and an epilogue. However, there was too much content and more ideas coming to me that I had to expand. Sadly, this means no _actual_ Top!Armin just yet. That will come in part 3 for sure.

I know last chapter focused a lot on Armin and Eren, but I plan to have some more diverse character interaction in this chapter. And if you're curious, yes: It has something to do with that red thread found in the book. :3

Do enjoy!

Part 2

" _. . . Hannah, what are you trying to do?"_

 _"Oh God, Armin! Help me, please!"_

 _". . ."_

 _"Franz quit breathing and I can't wake him up!"_

 _". . ."_

 _"He won't respond to CPR! C'mon, baby- you've got this. Stay with me! Somebody, help us!"_

 _"Hannah, please. It's not safe on the ground; We need to get you to a roof top-"_

 _"No! I'm not leaving him like this!"_

 _". . . You really don't understand, do you?"_

 _" *sob*. . ."_

 _"Hannah, I'm sorry. Franz is. . ."_

 _". . ."_

 _". . . Please stop. Please stop doing that."_

". .-min ."

 _"I can't. . . I can't take it. . . !"_

". . .ot waking u. . ."

 _"This is-"_

"GET READY FOR THE SMACKDOWN, YA MOP-HEAD!"

There was a hot and abrupt explosion of light and a gust of cold atmosphere. Armin sailed into the air and rolled without even being aware of it. His throat closed. His back bent and the nerves screamed. The boy was about to fight back when, as suddenly as he was attacked, the bindings were ripped away. Armin rolled onto his rear and scooted away. Reiner threw shade at a sheepish Connie, who was dangling by the scruff of his shirt in a meaty fist, and had apparently decided it would be a good idea to be Armin's personal alarm for that morning. "Aw, c'mon," the shortest defended. "He wasn't going to get up otherwise- He was so into it!"

"All the more reason you shouldn't have woken him," countered the other. "You're not supposed to mess with people if they're having a nightmare. Now go fix your straps." He dropped the boy and squatted to Armin's level and held a hand out. "I apologize for him. You're not seriously hurt, are you?"

". . . No. I'm fine. Thank you." He took the hand and stood up, giving the room a brief look around. His comrades shuffled around in various stages of preparation. Bertholdt slumbered peacefully against the head of his bunk, back propped against the wall, with his feet dangling over his head (They were probably looking at rain in the evening). Jean nudged him awake before shrugging his jacket on. Connie did as he was told concerning his straps. Reiner looked to be all ready to go by now. Some of the older ones, such as Dieter, seemed to have left already. And Eren-

. . . Was nowhere to be found.

"Was the nightmare really that bad?"

Yes. Yes it was. The nightmare was not just that but a memory as well. Hannah and Franz. With the latter having died in action and the former missing, Armin likened the story to the works of Shakespeare (God rest his sadistic, brilliant soul). It brought forth not only a possibility, but a very real truth: That one would die and leave the other alone. Hell, it had already happened once- Armin still had nightmares about being ripped out of a titan's mouth and having only a lifeless arm to keep him company. Suppose his friend _didn't_ come back the next time? He shrunk within himself from where he stood and looked down with a hand clapped to his elbow.

 _Can I go through that again?_

"Hey, you alright?"

Armin's mind was plowing full steam again with thoughts of all kinds. Reiner's question only triggered another path. Tell the truth? Lie? Yes, definitely lie. The smaller didn't want to say anything that wasn't set in stone. Besides, concerning the body language and mind set he had found himself in then, a little white lie would be easy to pass off. Not like it was that far from the truth anyways. "I'm fine. It's just the usual."

"Ah." Reiner understood, didn't prod further. Thankfully, that was just the kind of person he was. He patted Armin's shoulder. "Eren's fine, I assure you. He probably stopped at the latrines and is in the mess hall right now. Go ahead and get dressed- you'll catch him at some point."

"Thanks. I'll get to it."

"And you might want to clean up that wax. Captian Levi won't be happy if you don't."

"Wax?"

"On the floor."

The smaller turned his head and, sure enough, found a slumped, crusty pile of used candle wax and a shriveled wick stuck to the wooden checked and, sure enough, found flakes of the stuff in his hair. His book lay open on the floor, red thread still buried in the pages, but otherwise clean and untouched. _Guess I fell asleep reading and Eren put me to bed._ He'd have to thank him later. "Reiner, go ahead without me. I'll clean this up and meet you guys in the mess hall."

"You gonna be ok?"

"Of course. Thanks for asking."

Armin scraped up the pieces into a handkerchief while the other soldier filed out, one by one. Bertholdt asked Armin is he was ok before he left. The smaller have an affirmative reply and the taller left. Soon, most of the mess had been disposed up and he was left to his own devices. He picked up the book and stared at the cover pensively.

Forty stories. If he left out the appendix, Armin was done- he had finished the book in two nights and had the migraine to prove it. It could have been just him, but most those stories seemed largely the same, woven with death and tragedy with one or both of the lovers and flat-out disrespecting most of the women, brushing them off as stereotypes. They even dared to describe homosexuality as a fad or trend rather than a state of being, something that no one can honestly control. But that in and of itself was a refreshing way to look at it. There were no notions of demonic possession or sickness that was so characteristic of having such a preference, not like the church had put it. And every story was passionate, heart wrenching, but there was not a single word that entertained base and animalistic hungers. The actions and words of the characters gave a new way to love someone in a way that didn't feel taboo, inhuman or profane, which made such a love seem as natural as if it were between a man and a woman was at the beginning of time.

Armin envied those men, those boys. Not in the sense of having an older man for a partner. He really couldn't imagine being with someone like Commander Pixis or Commander Erwin in that way. But there was an appeal to having someone by his side. To hold, be held, kiss and be kissed or to have sweet nothings whispered endearingly in his ear from someone he looked up to. Could he and Eren ever find that? It certainly was a nice thought. Yes, he was able to see it now: The two of them lounging against an ancient oak somewhere, overlooking a river bank just like when they were kids. But it would be different. The old book may still be opened up in the grass, but it would be long forgotten. Armin would be propped up against Eren with arms around his waist and a chin resting atop his head. And they would just relax, just be together, with hands intertwined and the smaller being lulled to sleep by a heartbeat. Maybe they wouldn't exist beyond what the afternoon breeze passed by or what the tree shaded and not even war could touch them.

 _"Franz quit breathing and I can't wake him up!"_

. . . But how long would something like that last? How long until he'd be standing in his friend's blood or hoarding his body away from the embalmers? How long until death had been fed up with being cheated and decided to take Eren away for good?

 _Can I go through that again?_

 _. . . Can I put Eren through that?_

It was amazing, really. The thought really didn't occur to him until that moment. Having been laden with the smallest build, the slowest reflexes, the least speed and always being hit the hardest whenever a seasonal bug made its rounds, it was a wonder he didn't die up until this point. But the bigger question would be how the other would react. If confronted with something that was bigger than him or out of his circle of influence, Eren fell back to anger as though he were making himself "bigger". Titans, Jean's big mouth, the gap between his skill and Mikasa's- His solution was to challenge it, just like a defense mechanism. Mentions of his late mother made him go destructively ballistic. But a point just may come when Eren would just shut down completely, quit fighting, roll over and die. And if it were to go that way, he could have indeed died, even if his heart kept beating and legs kept walking.

Armin looked back down at the book and thumbed absentmindedly through the pages. Many of these powerful men had been killed, whether both lay in graves or one was forced to walk the earth alone. But their short time together must have been worth it, yes? If it weren't why would there even be a story? Why would there be forty?

 _What about the little time that_ I _have left?_

Armin clenched the book briefly before throwing it on the bed and rummaging through his half of the trunk for his uniform. This wasn't something to overthink, after all. He was about to break his own word. _I'll do it. I'll make something more out of us before I lose the chance._

Straps. Coat. Boots. Belt. Texts. He left the empty room without a second thought.

-AOT-

"Arlert! You're with Ackerman. You- try and land at least a few hits. And _you'd_ better not go easy on him."

"Yessir!"

". . . Yes, sir."

Another day, another ass-whooping. The blonde trotted behind his scarf-wearing friend. Armin had an easier time dealing with them since he joined the Survey Corps, fortunately. The date of the next expedition drew nearer with every hour and the intensity of the training cranked up slowly. They were. . . What, two weeks away? Yes two weeks. At least that present day was a good one. Some sun, some clouds, a breeze here and there- Nothing too rough, not too hot or cold. Dressing in only a short sleeve shirt, practice trousers and _swiftleres_ was sufficient. "Good luck"s and "No stopping"s went around with reciprocated courtesy. Every scout, tall, small, male, female, paired off into circles for sparring practice. All eyes were on Captain Levi as he dragged a pairing blade through the soil and closed an arch for two soldiers.

"You know the drill," he droned. "Try and knock your opponent out of the ring. We're not doing a point system today- Fight until you drop. As soon as you finish, get started on the next round. Even you brats can do it." The Captain removed his blade, gave a swing to shake off excess dirt, then pulled out a handkerchief for good measure, strolling in the opposite direction. "Please me and I'll consider giving you an extra break for the big clean up. Slack off and you're on latrine duty. Are we clear?"

"Sir, yessir!"

"Good. Hop to."

Like a rumble of thunder before the storm, opponents circled each other within the rings. A fine balance was to be kept. There was a time to analyze and a time to take action. Between every pair a dance imploded and undulated. Fist. Block. Fist. Block. Kick. Swerve. Break. , Armin would take as many blows as he could before striking vital regions of his opponent's body ("Heretics" were usually pretty tough), such as the diaphragm, windpipe, eyebrow and so on. There aren't many words to use for this sort of thing- It requires another language entirely. And it is a language not only of kinesthesis but of respect and faith in strength. Any polite competitor knows it well.

But Mikasa was having none of it.

True to the Captain's orders, she hit and she hit hard. A round about kick sent the blonde sprawling to the ground near the edge of the circle. Another battle cry sounded and he was caught in a chokehold, bowed over her body and trapped beneath her legs. As it turned out, she had a bone to pick with him. "Tell me what you know about what's been happening to Eren."

Armin choked against his restraints. The next thing he knew he was face down with his arm pinned behind his back and the girl's lips next to his ear. "My brother's been acting strange these past few days. He passes off fights with Jean and thinks too deeply to eat. He hates to be touched now, and he bathed alone this morning instead of at the normal time." She twisted his arms further. The smaller whimpered. "And then I see you with _that_ book. You have something to do with this. And it's in your best interest to spill."

"W-what book- Guh!" He briefly remembered the red thread but had been forced back to his feet and into the ring before he could comment on it.

"I thought I said spill."

Hands went up in defense. He circled the perimeter carefully. "L-Look, we don't need to fight. We can talk this out-Ack!"

In another moment Armin was flat on his back and choking on air. Two takedowns in the span of thirty seconds- This was serious. He could feel the bruises bloom on his side and back. A second later Armin had been straddled and trapped. His hands were pinned down with one of hers. The other fist hovered inches away from his nose. Blue eyes stared up into a glare as menacing as a blackened storm cloud. Armin suddenly felt his throat thicken. "How do you know-"

"That's the literature of my ethnic ancestors." She fisted a handful of blonde hair. "The better question is why _you're_ reading it."

Mikasa twisted the dainty hands. A screech of pain came out and Armin stuttered out a reply. It was practice, after all. No one would come to break them up. "I-I'm trying to help, ok?! Look, Eren's confused right now. He's probably scared. And he's not going to ask for help anytime soon-"

"You're going to have to be more specific than that."

"I think he's gay and I want to help."

A pause settled over them like a heavy blanket. She didn't let go. They stared back. Grey eyes darted across the boy's features: Analysis. He knew the look well. The gaze finally softened; The storm had calmed. "I see." She stood again and helped Armin to his feet. "Take care of him."

"Take care? I didn't ask for-"

"You're the only one I trust with this." This was the doting sister coming out. Or rather, it had been there the whole time. She was just gentler this time around. "There are a lot of pigs here who would want a piece of Eren. Take good care of him. You're the only one I know for sure who wouldn't abuse his body. And whatever you do, don't let him get too close to that midget. You have my blessing. Understand?"

"Just like that?"

"You don't plan on taking advantage of him, do you?"

"N-No! Not at all!"

"Good. Because whatever you do to him, I'll do to you. Are we clear?"

 _Whatever I- Oh God!_ If ever there was a reason to keep his urges in check, that was it. He stuttered out an affirmative agreement. "Y-Yes! Crystal c-clear!"

"Glad we agree on that." Mikasa released him and retook her fighting stance. "Back on your side. Practice isn't over yet."

"Yes, M-Ma'am."

-AOT-

 _Sure enough, no Eren here._

A cave and naturally occurring hot spring system could be found north of the base and the southern half the walls, nestled deep in a tundra that few bothered to explore. The hike between the two would have taken several days, but a river (nicknamed "Baden" by some) connected the two with currents of mineral-rich water, so saturated that the liquid looked a cloudy white rather than clear. Even the water was still steaming hot, as cracks in the earth brought heat up all along the stretch. Rivers were normally divided into four quarters and, from top to bottom with the flow it the current, went as such: First, cleaning water; Second, cooking water; Third, bathing water; Fourth, latrine water. As a project from the previous occupants, a single, small canal had been dug out, lined with ceramic tile, that brought the some of the water through a small wooden bath house (the water wouldn't have served well for much else). To accommodate, a washing area was built a level above where the aqueduct ran through the bathhouse, complete with rows of cleaning stations (with mirrors and shelves for the items), stools, buckets, and soaps from lye and animal fat. Two dividers on either side stopped the flow of water long enough for someone to soak, simple enough for anyone to operate. A half hour was assigned to both men and women in the evening each, back to back with the former going first. The water was left and, when morning came, was used for laundry.

"Hey, what's eating you? You've been hogging the soap."

The male members of the survey corps dwelled in the bath house in various stages of wash. Some were still undressing in front of the wall of cubbies for their clothes outside the washroom and others were scrubbing down or soaking in the tub. To see his comrades naked, even as a bisexual male himself, was nothing new to Armin, or for anyone for that matter. They all had the same parts, were all human men. Stripped of their uniforms and ranks, everyone there was an equal. No one could boast above another who wore only their skins and names just as they had. People like Levi and Erwin were no better than people like Reiner or Connie or Armin himself. Incidentally some of the most emotionally honest and introspective conversations took place here. When comfortable with your body, you can be comfortable with your mind and your words. At least, that was how it seemed at a time like that.

"Oi, Armin. I'm talking to you. Can you lend me a bar of soap?"

Jean's voice echoed off the walls. Steam rose up from the soaking tub and mingled with the fragrance of moist pine: The wood that made this bathhouse. It wasn't until the taller spoke up that Armin had ripped his hands out of the sudsy tangle of his hair. "Oh, sorry. My mind was elsewhere. Here." He didn't even bat an eye at the nude sight of his comrade as he passed him the milky white bar. Really he was more concerned with not agitating his bruises from earlier that day.

"Thanks. At least you had the courtesy to not stare at my dick." Jean rubbed the soap between his hands.

"That I did."

"Seems like even you're pretty chill with this."

"Am I?"

"Yeah. I'm not really surprised- well, I am and I'm not. I mean," The sud-covered hands went to his shoulders first, "I think even bathing was different depending on which wall you lived in, right? It was kind of an affordably luxury in Trost. I don't know how you guys did it, but I remember having all these oils you could dump in the water and a curtain so no one would see you. Not to mention it kept all the steam and smells in. A few drops of tallow and fifteen minutes of privacy really could do wonders."

"Huh."

"I'm not embarrassed, not anymore, but I figured you definitely would be, even if you probably had more public accommodations in Shiganshina. Y'know, lower living standards and all." Jean stopped, then turned to look to Armin. "What was it like back there, anyways? I don't think I even asked you."

"Well, you certainly wouldn't ask Eren."

"I know I wouldn't ask him. He's not mature like your's truly."

Armin smiled. He really hadn't been close to Jean in the beginning since he and Eren were always fighting. But then Jean changed and that prior fact changed and, in all honesty, Armin was rather glad for it. For someone who joined the trainee corps as an arrogant, self-absorbed loud-mouth, he really evolved. The pettiness shed like an old skin and left behind honesty and selflessness. If there wasn't anything crazy going on, Jean was even amiably social. His mother would have been proud and relieved.

Marco would have been proud and relieved.

The blonde bent down from his seat to scrub his legs and feet. "You're partially right. I do remember public accommodations. There was this huge public bath, as wide as it was long. Pillar to pillar there was nothing but brown marble. If we wanted hot water, we needed to use separate tub and pay for it. It was far away, both my parents worked, and I was pretty young so we only went every few days. We'd walk there and spend. . . Well, I don't really know how long we were there for. I always lost track of time playing in the water."

"You went with your parents?"

"Yeah, it was normal for us. The place wasn't gender-segregated, either. Families going together wasn't uncommon. If anything sticks out to me between then and now, it's that there are only men here. It feels a little quiet." The blonde chuckled to himself. Smiles and laughter danced in his memory. "I remember playing with rocks in the water. Me and my Mother pretended they were fish and Dad had the biggest rock that was supposed to be a trade ship. When we were done and walking back Dad would put me on his shoulders. I always complained it wasn't high enough. And they would tell me all these stories about the marine life and the birds in the sky and-" he stopped himself when his eyes burned. Jean stared back quietly. Armin blinked rapidly and offered a sheepish grin. "I'm sorry. I got a little carried away. But that was the bulk of it. Open, public, no segregation, rare heat."

"Nah, it's fine. Sounds like you had a lot of fun back then."

"Yeah. I guess I did."

Not every soldier would stay for the whole time period. Levi had just walked in. Bertholdt had just walked out. Connie gave his signature battle cry before making a bee-line for the large tub and plunging in. The chatter and steam and moist pine smell still hung above the occupants. Jean continued. "Still, that has to be, like, _so_ awkward."

"Awkward?"

"Yeah, like," Jean paused, "Like what if there's a hot woman there?"

Armin wrinkled his nose. "You keep it to yourself- We're not beasts."

"But you could still pop one is what I'm saying."

". . . Yes. And you keep it to yourself. We're not beasts. Besides, the same thing could happen between two men or-

"Sshh!"

The blonde blinked. "I was just going to say-"

"You need to stop talking right now."

". . . You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not. Talking about that stuff's illegal, especially because we're soldiers."

The words blind-sided the blonde and rendered him speechless. Armin nearly dropped the bucket of water he had. Sure, he's talked of illegal things before- that was the one of the happiest parts of his childhood. But admitting something outside of a heterosexual norm- _That_ was illegal? There was a law that said someone couldn't say they had feeling for someone of the same sex? Was pursuing a relationship of that nature really so wrong? Armin opened his mouth to ask why-

"Dude! I got a wicked boner I've gotta show you guys!"

A collective groan replaced the otherwise normal conversation. Like two north ends of a magnet every head turned away from the sight of a stark naked Connie Springer standing up in the middle of the steaming water. The two who were just talking froze in their spots. Incredulous annoyance and irritation crept up in their features. The shorter huffed. ". . . Please tell me that's not Connie."

"Guys, C'mon!"

Jean grit his teeth and tried to focus on cleaning. ". . . Yup. It's Connie. Just ignore him- Maybe he'll stop."

"Seriously, check this shit out!"

"He's not leaving us alone."

"I really hope he doesn't go into detail about how he got it."

"Oh _God_ -"

"Noooooo! It's gon-"

No one would have whipped their heads fast enough to see what had happened. A projectile flew through the air as though it were in a foot race with a lead bullet. One thing collided with another and sent a cry out that leveled every word of complaint in the room. That was when everyone saw. The wood on the opposite wall splintered and caved in. White shards and splintersnwere strewn about. A similarly colored mass was nestled into the broken wall. Blood speckled the floor and dispersed in the water. And Connie Springer lay with his back bowed over the edge, waist in the water and torso outside, groaning in agony as crimson liquid dribbling out of the mangled knot of what used to be his nose. A voice piped up. "Thank you, Captain Levi."

"Just give me another bar of soap." From the furthest corner of the room a terrifyingly muscular arm and waiting hand thrust out from a formless mound of soap bubbles. Reiner took care of the request and swiped up a towel for the other shortie. Everyone else scrambled out of the water.

Armin leaned in with a low voice. "Why ban that?"

"To keep shit like _that_ from happening." Jean shook the excess soap off his hands. "Don't speak, don't tell, don't harass- that was the intention. It's been like that for a year now but no one realizes that it doesn't work."

"What about Ymir and Christa?"

Jean sighed. "They're girls- Of course it's ok. The king can make up whatever laws he damn well feels like. Besides, even if they were caught, either Ymir will beat the shit outta them or Christa will ask them so charmingly to 'calm down' that the authorities would be begging to be the man in the three-way." Jean rinsed, dried off, and stood. "I'm going to make sure Connie's ok. Don't bring that kind of talk into the tub when you go to soak."

With that Armin was left to finish alone. If those words were true, the moment in the stables could have been enough to warrant an arrest. A lost and dejected boy looked back at him in the mirror. His hair had gotten longer: Instead of a curve at his jawline, the golden tips had reached all the way to his shoulders. Shadows hung under big blue eyes and the initial luster faded. Button nose and rounded cheeks aside, this person had aged. _I'm a soldier. I swore to protect humanity. Is it not a given that I should refrain from taking advantage of my comrades? Were those before me really so base and cruel?_

If they were, there was little Armin could do to help. He shook his head and rinsed. Another headache started to throb behind his forehead. _Maybe I do need a few minutes in the hot water._

-AOT-

 _What. . . happened here?_

The two books he had picked up only a few days ago came from the furthest end of the library- the back of the back, if you will. There couldn't have been anything special about it. The books placed there didn't follow the usual decimal system, nor were they all identical like encyclopedia volumes. If anything you had a patchwork of fiction, history, cultural studies, environmental biology, and anything else you could conceive. Maybe there would be a few topics that you couldn't. The contents had been largely untouched by anyone else simply because they didn't have to time to read, nor did they have the capacity to care.

Armin hadn't even scratched the surface of what sat on these shelves. And not a few days later, only a quarter of the overflowing supply remained, trapped behind long tendrils of red rope and "Do not touch" signs.

He tossed a look over each shoulder and kept his ears peeled. Once again, the library was deserted. Or that was how it seemed from the candle light's aura. The moon wasn't so full anymore and didn't provide adequate light, so another candle was needed. Armin frowned and knit his brows as he inspected the titles.

 _Septuagint with Apocrypha: Greek and English. . ._

 _Early Christian Doctrines. . ._

 _The Heart of Catholicism: Essential Writings of the Church. . ._

He shelved the two pieces of literature on an empty ledge nearby, pulled off a new one- a pamphlet. The name "John Finnis" had been scrawled on blue paper beneath the title: _Reason, Faith, and Homosexual Acts._ He cracked it open and skimmed.

 _The reason why even the most deep-seated homosexual tendency must be called disordered is straightforward. Every such tendency, inclination or orientation "is a more or less strong tendency ordered toward an intrinsic moral evil." Of course, "the particular inclination of the homosexual person is not a sin" —for a sin is committed only in a choice. But the inclination is precisely an inclination to choose a homosexual act—a sex act with a person of the same sex. And, like every other kind of non-marital sex act, any and every homosexual act is a seriously disordered kind of activity which, if freely and deliberately chosen, is a serious sin. An inclination which one cannot choose to pursue without serious moral evil is obviously a disordered inclination. So: "the particular inclination of the homosexual person...is a more or less strong tendency ordered [i.e., directed] toward an intrinsic moral evil, and thus the inclination itself must be seen as an objective disorder." The definitive edition of the Catechism of the Catholic Church first points out that homosexual acts are always "intrinsically disordered" (para. 2357) and then goes on, in the following paragraph, to describe the inclination in precisely the same terms: "intrinsically disordered."_

Armin wrinkled his nose in disgust. First that law, then this. _This doesn't help me at all- Just how old is this thing?_ The last time he had heard such talk was from the loud friar back in Shiganshina who preached to an unsorted market. Who, in this day in age, even believed that such acts were "disordered" or "sinful" as the text put it? Who would that hurt? And what of hands and mouths, which anyone could use regardless of gender or preference? Perhaps these were "evil" acts because they could not bring children, but there were many a homeless orphan who probably wouldn't mind having two mothers or fathers. Orientation should be irrelev-

The was a clatter immediately to Armin's left. A handful of books fell off the shelves, strewn like the slope of a graph. The entire place was completely still and Armin hadn't bumped into anything- They had to be pulled off. The two books he had just returned had gone missing. A light flickered faintly behind a row of shelves. Someone breathed not far off.

He was not alone.

His stomach dropped. Blood drummed loudly. Sweat beaded and his throat closed up. Armin could have very well have been found out. _Think, dammit- think!_ The epicenter of the other candle flame didn't move. Swiping those books away- They must have been on a hunt for reading material, too. Suspicious material at that; Why else come out at night? Armin stood still and passed his candle from one hand to the other, reaching as far as possible. The other light moved accordingly. A silhouette of average height finally formed, but not one strictly male or female. _They know I'm here, too._ He searched the room. _C'mon, c'mon, think- There!_ His steps moved no quicker than a watch's minute hand and made less sound. The candle was left on a reading table. Just as Armin had predicted, the other crept towards the stationary light and paid him no attention while he flanked around the shelf.

He turned the corner and saw them. Scout's coat. An up-do. Whoever they were, they had at least a few centimeters above him. The figure stopped. Their head went back and forth frantically, before fixating on a shelf and trotting forward for a better look.

Armin crept closer still. A voice hummed. A voice that belonged to the figure- a woman. She thumbed through the books and hissed a curt "Dammit". The wings of freedom were printed from their perch on her back. He reached for her shoulder-

"Oh my gosh!" The candle flew into the air and went out. Armin felt his fingers hook into something that rippled with a distinct snap. He staggered back. More books fell. The other crumpled to the floor and wailed. "Levi, that's not funny! C'mon, gimmie back my glasses! This is my last trip, I swear!"

Levi? So she was a higher up. The blonde crawled forward. "Um, Ma'am-"

"I don't wanna take shit from some stupid haircut!"

"Ma'am, I'm not Captain Levi."

". . . You're not?"

"No."

"Oh." She looked down, patted the ground, looked back to Armin and held her hand out. "Can I have my glasses back? And while you're at it, please disregard everything I just said."

". . . Well, you can have your glasses back, but I can't forget that much." He promptly held the item out. A pair of hands, adorned in writer's callouses, padded his own and took the lenses away. Half a moment later, a light burst into being. The woman before him sat in clear view as she relit her candle and put a small matchbook back in her pocket. Her age must have lay between the twenties and thirties. Brown hair had been pulled back into a messy ponytail and equally shaded eyes studied the simple task. A yellow shirt covered a slim figure. "Miss- ah, Squad Leader," Armin finally amended after checking the woman's uniform, "Do you know what happened he-"

"Woah!" In no time the mystery Miss hovered almost nose to nose with the boy. It was clear she was able to see again. "You're not Levi at all! Why didn't you say so?!"

"I did- Ok, just, who _are_ you?"

"Oh, my apologies." She stood, smoothed the wrinkles in her lemon colored shirt and help out a hand to shake. "Squad Leader Hange Zoe, at your service! As long as you keep this our little secret from a certain shorty, that is."

"Oh, you're the one who's been working with Eren this whole time." The blonde returned the courtesy and shook her hand. "I've heard a lot about you. My name is Armin Arlert. I'm a friend of his."

"Arlert? As in the kid who stood up to Commander Foreman when the siege on Trost happened? Omigosh!" She scooped the boy up in her arms and cheered, swinging him in circles while he struggled to cope with a lack of solid ground. "Thankyouthankyouthankyou! Without you I wouldn't have my precious titan specimen! I'll make it up to you in any way you like- You name it, I'll do it!"

"Anything?"

"Within reasonable bounds, of course."

"That's better. First I'd appreciate it if you put me down."

"Oh, right. Sorry." Hange released the boy.

"Thank you. Firstly, do you come here often?"

The woman nodded with enthusiasm.

"Good. I wanted to ask about those books. The ones I put back just now." Armin dropped his voice to a whisper and , "Do you have anymore like them? I'm kinda. . . 'researching' something important."

The elder looked back at him and something. . . strange happened. Layer by layer, what appeared to be a normal, slightly eccentric woman became something fanatical and foreign. Her face broke into a cheshire grin. The corners of her eyes curved upwards. The pupils expanded with excitement and her voice came out with an eerie glee. And whether she had lost a piece or her mind or willingly tossed it out was up for debate. "I see~." She leaned back inward and licked her lips. "So _you're_ one of those people who have interests in the most exciting stuff. Is that true? Don't lie, sweetie- I can see it in your eyes~."

"M-Maybe? Not titans, but-"

"Great! Come, come!" She took his hands and pulled him towards the library exit, but not before swiping up the candles and books. "You won't understand unless I show you."

Down the halls they sped. Hange giggled the whole way and Armin struggled to keep quiet and keep up. Hallways and stairwells blurred into one until they reached a door on the highest floor of the northeast tower. A sloppy paint job on the front told anyone outside that this was the woman's office. She fisted a ring of keys out of her pocket and fiddled with the lock. Scratch that- fiddled with _three_. Three distinct clicks sounded before the hinges whined. "This is it," she squealed. Armin didn't quite understand at first. It was a normal office, yes? Large oak desk, bookshelves, cabinets, big window, and the smell of assam and ceylon was nothing special around these parts. But the screech of furniture across the ground and clatter of wood told another story.

The floorboards were exhumed and tossed about. And behold, old and new, adorned in every color and calligraph imaginable, there lay many a manuscript nestled tightly together like bedded children. It could have spanned the whole room. No luster; No cleavage; No karat; No coin. But this much treasure was surely enough to bring a man to his knees in joyous tears. Hange pushed the two new additions with their brethren and trailed her fingertips across the spines like she would a lover.

"They're all banned by the church," she explained. Chocolate brown eyes had never gleamed bright, not that the boy had ever seen. "Each and every one of them. Some of them are even banned by the government. It finally reached us- I knew it would. That's why that part of the library was sealed off. So I've been taking them away and hiding them here, for weeks and for months. You have no idea how many of these poor, beautiful babies would have been burned!"

Burned? As in set to fire until you had nothing but ashes? As in never to share their words with the world? Now _that_ was a scary thought. As though the Military Police were on their way to finish the job Armin knelt next to the closest grouping, swiped up the first book he saw (A small, yellow one with bronze writing), flipped it open and feasted his eyes on the aged leaflets.

 _Yet not to thine eternal resting-place_

 _Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish_

 _Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down_

 _With patriarchs of the infant world - with kings,_

 _The powerful of the earth - the wise, the good,_

 _Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past,_

 _All in one mighty sepulchre. The hills_

 _Rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun, - the vales_

 _Stretching in pensive quietness between;_

 _The venerable woods - rivers that move_

 _In majesty, and the complaining brooks_

 _That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,_

 _Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,-_

 _Are but the solemn decorations all_

 _Of the great tomb of man. The golden sun,_

 _The planets, all the infinite host of heaven,_

 _Are shining on the sad abodes of death_

 _Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread_

 _The globe are but a handful to the tribes_

 _That slumber in its bosom. - Take the wings_

 _Of morning, pierce the Barcan wilderness,_

 _Or lose thyself in the continuous woods_

 _Where rolls the Oregon, and hears no sound,_

 _Save his own dashings - yet the dead are there:_

 _And millions in those solitudes, since first_

 _The flight of years began, have laid them down_

 _In their last sleep - the dead reign there alone._

"Squad leader, this word: 'Se-pul-chray'-"

"Actually, that's 'se-pul-kur'," the woman corrected. "It's another way to say 'burial place'. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't know it- Not even most adults do." She leaned forward with a child's smile. "It a poem about death, if you would believe it. The guy who wrote decided that all corpses were equals and were able to find peace, be one with the earth. That it's not the end and even that it's not as bad as people think it is."

"Y-yeah. That much I could pick up. But why ban this one? With a mentality like that, drafts may not be necessary-"

"And then there's this one!" She ripped out another book in in maroon leather. "One of the _Veda_ books. The guy who wrote this one doesn't think the walls are 'God' or that we even have just one. We have more. Way more! Some with blue skin and some with five pairs of arms and some three faces on one head!"

"You're serious? Is there proof that those gods exist, like the walls?"

"No one knows. That's the beauty of it! There are people who wrote other books like this, but they're different. The talk about floods that killed every being on this world, about how we have 8,000 gods that live in mirrors, about prophets and desserts, one-eyed old men with ravens for pets, demons forced to walk the earth for all eternity, and about how there is _no such thing_ as 'God' in the first place. Can you believe it? There are all these ideas, but no way of knowing who is right or wrong, so it's impossible for anyone to _be_ right or wrong!"

Amazing. Beautiful. Deliciously superfluous. It would have been nice to steal an armful or three of these away, but he still had important business to attend to. "Squad Leader, I'm looking for something specific, remember?"

"Oh, right!" A bead of drool dribbled at the corner of the woman's mouth and her smile could have wrapped around twice. "You wanted more like those two, right? Lay it on me! I've got it all, believe me! Tell me what you need."

Armin blinked. His eyes darted left. Then right. Hange waited patiently. The fire never died. Now that he was on the spot, the words didn't come so easy. And that was fine, even if the haven he had found was a person and not a place. So he settled for the truth. "Anything is fine, really. The thing is. . . Well, there's this . . . boy."

"A boy?"

"Yes."

"And you want to try and get with him or something?"

". . . Yeah."

"Well, out with it. Which one is it?"

 _Oh geez- Didn't think I'd get this far._ She was tolerant, but that didn't help as much as he would have thought. Armin's cheeks and ears ignited and he buried his face behind the poetry book.

"C'mon, you can tell me."

 _I can't. I really can't._

"Is it Jean?"

"N-No. . ."

"Reiner?"

"No."

"Is it Eren? It's Eren, isn't it?"

 _Fucking hell!_ He opened the book and covered his head, curling further into a ball as though he could vanish out of existence.

"I knew it! I totally knew it!" Hange sniggered maniacally and rushed behind her desk. Keys jingled. A locked clicked. Armin lifted his head once more. Mad eyes peered over the edge. "Come here."

"Squad Leader-"

"You see this?" She withdrew and waved a folder in front of the boy. Small scraps floated down from the larger collection. "This is all the information I have available on Cadet Eren Jaeger, the infamous titan shifter. There's nothing about that boy that gets past me. Blood test results, behavioral patterns, regeneration rates, the works. And _I'll_ help you get in his pants if you help me stuff this account a little fuller."

"Get in his-" Armin blushed furiously. "That's not the only thing I'm after, though!"

"Either way, you're going to have to know your limits. The wrong move could send another giant hand through the wall and the Military Police knocking on our door." She sauntered around the desk with a chiding lilt in her words. "Not to mention if you want to give him a little 'treat', it's safe to say that he's going to have a clear goal in mind, wouldn't you agree? That and a little pain is all he needs to turn. I bet very few people would appreciate a fifteen meter horndog running around the base and the first naked someone they see would look awfully suspicious." Hange wore a sinister and proud grin. She won, and she knew it. "Like it or not, you can't rush into this without my help. And if you do, I can guarantee you will regret it."

And that was all well and good except. . .

"Squad leader, All I want to do is learn about what I can to do help. Eren's not used to being the way he is yet. He's scared and confused. He could end up alone if he fights this. I don't want that. I want him to know that I'm there for him. And. . . well, I admit it would be nice to be with him and give back something after everything he's done for me, but this comes first. I don't know how much I can help _you_ out, but I accept your terms."

Hange calmed. Armin wouldn't have seen, but her eyes watered at his words. "Aww- Now I can't turn you down! Put the floorboards back and have a seat when you finish. We can knock out two birds with one stone." The woman let the papers drop on her desk with a padded smack. Armin did as he was told. "No earl grey tonight- this calls for the good stuff. You and I are going to be busy." She then went to the cabinet and pulled out a tall bottle and two tiny glasses. One would immediately think it were alcohol, but there was reason for speculation. First, for why a squad leader would give alcohol to a fifteen-year-old. But second, and most importantly, why said liquid was _black_ and not amber or tan. Not even the bottle was colored properly to prevent excess fermentation. The mischievous glint was back when the question of the drink's nature was questioned.

"It's _ilex vomitoria_ ," she explained. "A special kind of holly. This is my secret stash for all the late nights. I put a little salt in it to it stays good. 'Gives you one hell of a kick. Maybe some heart skips, too, but that's beside the point." Two shot glasses were slammed on the wood. "It's totally safe- I even make tea from the same plant sometimes. Gives you caffeine, antioxidants, but be warned! Drink _only_ in moderation! I had too much one time and Levi beat me over the head for projectile vomiting."

". . . Why is it _black_?"

"That's just the color. Anyways, here ya go." Hange filled the three-ounce cup and slid it to Armin. She filled her own and held it up. "Bottoms up!" The first shot went down and was immediately followed by a second one. Armin watched, cup in hand. "Well, c'mon, take it already. You gotta be fast with it. That flavor is not one you will like right off the bat."

It took Armin about three attempts to get down every drop of the small glass, but he did it. There was gagging and pleas for a drink of normal water, but he did it. After the ordeal had passed, Hange opened the folder and started spreading papers all about. Sketches, journal entries, reports, theses- the list was endless. The bottle and glasses stayed out and Armin leaned forward to listen. The first piece to be examined was a packet crammed with small bubbles of chicken scratch. "I'll start you off with the basics. As far as the differences between his human body and that of a normal person, the most prominent ones are. . ."

-AOT-

I've gotten in pretty deep, huh? I had originally planned for this to be a little different from most yaoi fics I read, but the scope has expanded more than I had first intended. But I want to make it realistic, too. Again, leave a review to let me know if I got it down right. I'd appreciate it big time.

Sorry, the disclaimer will be a big one. Of the franchises and sources referenced you have:

 _Attack on Titan_ by Hajime Isayama;

 _The Great Mirror of Manly Love_ by Saikaku Ihara;

 _Reason, Faith, and Homosexual Acts_ by John Finnis;

 _Septuagint with Apocrypha: Greek and English_ by Lancelot Brenton;

 _Early Christian Doctrines_ by J.N.D. Kelly;

 _The Veda texts, Hinduism;_

 _The Heart of Catholicism: Essential Writings of the Church_ by Theodore E. James and Albert J. Nevins;

And we have a poem quoted here: _Thanatopsis_ by William Cullen Bryant.

Thanks to Joseph for looking this over and giving the thumbs up to post. Anyways, please stick around! I promise you'll see a little more Armin x Eren next time. Have a good one and please be patient for part 3.


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